I begin a new season of writing today. Of course I’m excited
about this, but in the back of my mind I’m worried, possibly even a little panicked.
I know that the universe requires balance. Did I learn that from Einstein or
another great mathematician or physicist? Perhaps. But more so, I believe the
fact is simply an element of wisdom. “All good things must come to an end,”
according to Chaucer, so what ends for me today? A point of anxiety? A
relationship? A last hope for an unmet desire? And will I even know that the
finale was today? Will the notice scroll across Facebook, Twitter, or present itself
in the form of an email? Will I get an undecipherable text? Or will the
information come via something I rarely receive anymore: a phone call?
I think the natural balance of all that surrounds us is way
too subtle for modern technology. And too artistic. I think these memorandums
come from within us and are instinctual. We just know when something is over.
The hard part is often admitting the final resolution to ourselves…or taking a
moment to celebrate. Or perhaps just letting it go…
Will I share with you when I discover what today’s
unexpected ending was? Yes, but it won’t be obvious in the form of a social
media bleep. I hope I’m more artistic than that. I hope I sub-consciously weave
it into a story character or plot and use my writing as a way of letting go. It’s
a luxury we writers have—turning our circumstances into prose, cleverly disguising
our tears and cheers in entertainment for those willingly to take us on. For an
audience of one or many, we hope our endings transform into someone else’s
beginning. Author’s release = Reader’s new life-ly lease
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